this is the moment
by omfg it's sophie
Summary: He has booked the table and he has bought a tux. He has showered and washed his hair and he has shaved. He is going to ask Alice to marry him.' [oneshot: frank's proposal. hopelessly romantic. k for language.]


**A/N Dude, I love Frank & Alice. **

**I'm a hopeless romantic. **

**THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU PETAL THANK YOU.**

Frank Longbottom has it all planned out.

He has booked the table and he has bought a tux. He has showered and washed his hair and he has shaved. He had used so much soap in the shower he thinks that he has scrubbed off a good portion of his skin. He has bought a ring, and, if he does say so himself, it is a drop dead gorgeous ring. If Alice doesn't say yes because she loves him, she will say yes to get that ring and then run off with it. He has combed his hair and he has put on expensive cologne and, when he shaved, he actually _shaved_.

Everything, he feels, is perfect. He looks absolutely smashing and nothing is going to ruin this. He will not let anything ruin this.

Frank hasn't even thought ahead to what may happen if she says no. He doesn't think she could possibly say no because, well, he _loves_ her, doesn't he? He thought about it once, a while back, and it made him go white as a sheet and shake for a minute until he convinced himself that she wouldn't say no and built up a wall around that thought. Why would she say no, anyway? Someone at work said that she was talking to them about whether Frank was going to ask her to marry him any time soon and, well, to Frank this shows that she must want to. He thinks about it now, for a moment, watching his reflection carefully as he does up his tie as neat as possible, and his hand slips.

"Shit," he mutters, chewing on his lip and letting his hands drop. He looks at his collar, folded up and loose against his neck, with the black tie hanging limply from his shoulders. He shakes this thought from his mind and does his tie up again, doubling over his collar and straightening the crease in it. He frowns, eyes on the base of his throat where the knot of the tie is. Then, quite suddenly, Frank does the top button of his shirt up and tightens his tie.

This is not him, this stiff figured person with a solemn expression he is looking at in the bathroom mirror. This is Frank Longbottom going to a funeral, not going to ask the woman he loves to spend the rest of her life with him. Licking his lips, Frank undoes his tie and then the top button, so he's back to square one. Maybe she'd want him to be a bit more serious, though. Or maybe she'd want him to be how he normally is. Frank's head spins.

He does his tie up carefully again, straightens it and loosens it. He leaves his top button undone and looks at the mirror. Yes, this is him, but is this how he wants to ask Alice to marry him? Oh, Merlin, he'll never get this right.

"Alice," he says, meeting his eyes in the mirror with a straight face. "I love you so much. I've always loved you and I want to be able to spend the rest of my life with you." He blinks, lowering his gaze to his pocket where the little box with the ring in it is. He's decided to be very, well, traditional. It's all very romantic, Alice will say later. He wonders vaguely how one gets on one knee from sitting at a table. Do you sort of slide onto the floor, or do you stand up and then go down? He decides with the latter and he'll hold her hands and look in her eyes and go down on one knee and ask her.

"Will you marry me?" he asks his reflection, but then looks away. However much he wants to practice, to get in as much practice as he can, like a kid for his first school play, it's a bit weird asking his reflection to marry him.

"I'll pass on that, I think."

Frank turns around, laying eyes on the tall, bulky black man in his doorway and grins. The thin light from the bathroom reflects off of his head when he turns it as if to inquire something without saying anything. Frank bows his head slightly.

"How are you holding up, then?" Kingsley says, walking into the room and clapping an enormous hand on Frank's shoulder. He looks up at the reflection of them both and meets Kingsley's eyes in the mirror.

"Jesus," he says faintly, which makes him laugh.

"She's going to say yes," Kingsley says in an off hand manner. "By the way."

There's a moment of silence and Frank slips his hand into his pocket, feeling the thin box there. He swallows, flicking it open while it's still surrounded by the safe fabric of his trousers and runs a thumb over the ring. What would happen if he forgets the ring and he just sits there on one knee and then has to pretend he dropped his fork or something along those lines? So many things just waiting to go wrong, really.

"But I'm going to screw it up," he says faintly, moving his hand from his pocket and moving to run it through his hair but holding himself back. "I'm going to, dammit, my tie, I don't know what to do with it." He looks at the tight knot of his tie on his chest. "I don't know whether to do up my top button or whether to leave my tie loose or whether to comb my hair or leave it normal or _anything_."

Kingsley looks at him for a moment, his eyes scanning Frank's tux and his hair and his tie.

"Maybe," he says, voice slow and calm, as always, "you should just be yourself. Come here." He pulls Frank so that he's facing towards him, then holds him at arms' length. He pulls his tie out of its knot and does it up how Frank normally has it, tight and small and close to his top button. Then he pulls the two folds of his collar apart from each other and runs a hand through Frank's hair so that it sticks up slightly. Frank grins at him, a silent thanks between old friends for something that really had to be done.

"I was going to look like a total stuck up old bugger, wasn't I," he says mildly and Kingsley laughs. "Okay, time. Right. It's a seven o' clock reservation." He chews on his lip again, checking his watch. "I've half an hour to get to Lily's and get Alice from her and then get to the restaurant." He takes a breath, heart suddenly beating a lot faster against his chest because, blimey, this is _it, _he's been preparing it for months and finally it's happening. He must have gone white because Kingsley claps his shoulder again and pushes him out the door first the bathroom and then the flat.

"Ring?" he asks and Frank holds up the box, snapping it open to show the ring.

"You'll marry me if she says no, right, Kingsley?"

"Wallet?" he says firmly, and Frank pats his pocket. "Keys?" He looks at Frank and he remembers meeting him in first year, _first year_, all that time ago, and he feels extremely happy for his friend. "Go get her, mate," he says, grinning.

"Don't eat all my food, Shacklebolt," Frank says, voice hoarse, and Kingsley laughs and closes the door to Frank's own flat in his face.

Lily's known for a while that Frank is going to propose. She agreed to keeping Alice busy while he got ready and getting her dressed up although she wasn't to know why. He stands outside the door to her flat, ten minutes later, heart throbbing a bruise against his ribcage. Then, taking a breath, he knocks on the door three times.

It opens and Lily sticks her head out before grinning when she sees who it is.

"Oh, Frank," she says, voice filled with excitement, and steps out of her flat to quickly hug him. "She hasn't the foggiest. Come on in." Blushing furiously and wishing he wasn't, Frank steps inside her flat, which smells, he notices, of girl. Years of Hogwarts has defined girl by the smell that wafted down the girls' dormitories every morning and this is exactly what it was. "I'll go get her," Lily says, turning and disappearing around a corner. When she comes back it isn't only Alice who is with her, but James as well and he raises an eyebrow faintly.

"Hey, mate," James says, holding out his hand for Frank to shake and then pulling him in to a rough manly hug, which consists of a lot of patting and tight squeezes. "Good luck," he adds quietly, just before stepping back. Frank rubs at his nose, nodding at James in thanks before he turns his eyes onto Alice. He grins, broader than he has so far that night, and finds that soon his cheeks hurt.

"You look, wow, just," he manages, still grinning. "You look _great_."

He imagines that Lily and Hestia had dragged Alice into town earlier, and taken her to every snazzy shop around. He imagines her standing in front of a mirror, staring blankly at herself, biting her lip and smudging her lipstick, which would distress Hestia. He imagines Hestia rushing foreword with a disagreeable sound, ready to fix any make up gone astray. Alice would completely ignore whatever she says, and continue to look at her reflection.

Frank doesn't blame her. She's wearing an incredibly pretty dress – beautiful, even. He imagines that Alice wouldn't have believed that she had actually been talked into buying it, he imagines Lily saying, seriously, that Alice looks amazing in it. Because, well, she does.

Frank lets his eyes roam Alice's body, feeling as if the world has stopped. The dress is a very elegant number, dark navy in colour and simple in design, sans straps with a very low back. It trails down to her knees, where the skirts are made up of several layers of flimsy, translucent material and similar opaque fabrics. Sequins line the hem and all in all it's just a gorgeous dress. He can sense that Alice feels stupid in it, that she doesn't think that it suits her. He thinks that maybe she would prefer to go out with Frank in a neat shirt with some of the top buttons undone and a pretty skirt. This dress is just...

Well.

She must feel like she's going to a wedding, ironically.

Alice isn't even standing up straight yet, she was pushed so enthusiastically into the room and already Frank feels as if he could, well, marry her. He watches her stumble on her new heels and, in this moment of inelegance, meets her eyes, smiling as she blushes.

"Frank," she stammers, and he steps foreword, grinning broadly. "Erm, hallo."

"You're absolutely gorgeous," he says quietly, looping his hands around his waist and kissing her softly. He steps back, still beaming at her, the back of his neck slightly red when he realizes their company is watching them.

"Um," she says, looking at him with wide eyes. Frank thinks she looks vaguely like a lost puppy. "Where are we going, then?" His breath hitches slightly and he glances at Lily, who laughs and pushes them out the door.

"Surprise," Frank says, voice surprisingly easy. He pockets his hands and rubs them on the fabric, fingers slipping past each other. He wants to hold Alice's hand but he's scared that, if he does, she'll drown in the sweat coming off of them and then everything will be ruined. But, then again, his hands are touching the box with the ring inside and he feels as if that is more important than how self conscious he is about his sweaty hands, so he takes that hand out his pocket, careful not to accidentally take the ring along with it, and folds it carefully around Alice's hand.

"C'mere," he says quietly, waving a cab once they get onto the road. The man sitting behind the steering wheel nearly takes up both the seats in the front, but he looks jolly enough, beaming at Frank and Alice as he pulls over.

"C'mon in," the driver says cheerfully with a thick London accent. Alice raises an eyebrow at him, as if going to ask him where they're going again, but gets in ahead of him, shaking her head. Frank leans into the front window, giving the driver, whose name, according to the little slip on the dashboard, is Tom, a piece of paper with the address of the restaurant on it. He looks at it once and nods, letting Frank get into the back and then, almost as soon as he has closed the door, zipping off with the smooth speed that only a London taxi cab has.

As if taking the hint that there was some sort of secret going on, Tom says nothing nor inquires nothing about where they're going. He keeps looking in his rear view mirror at Frank and Alice, however, and then smiling and lowering his eyes to the road again.

"I love you," he murmurs, putting his arm around Alice's shoulders. Alice smiles and blushes when Tom, who was looking at them a moment before, lowers his eyes, a knowing smile on his face.

"I love you, too," she says quietly. "There's no point in asking where we're going, is there?" Frank laughs, turning his head so that his face is close to hers, inhaling deeply.

"No," he says absently. "I don't think there is."

"Lily and Hestia kidnapped me today," she comments to him. He gives her a perplexed look, which she laughs at. "I was literally yanked out of the doorway this morning. Didn't you wonder why I wasn't at home all day?" She rolls her eyes teasingly. "You're hopeless. I've been attacked with make up, clothes and two rather savage friends forcing me to look nice."

Well, of course Frank knows this, but Alice doesn't know that he knows. He tilts his head, a mischievous smile on his face which, quite frankly, gave the game away a bit.

"Oh, really?" he says. "I didn't notice you were gone, actually. Now I think about it, though, I did have to tell myself off about drinking orange juice from the carton." Alice purses her lips slightly, but there's a slight smile behind it.

"You are absolutely hopeless," she repeats, although she's smiling now. "You always will be."

Although Tom seems extremely nice, an almost Santa Claus figure, Frank feels a bit awkward with him in the cab. True, they do move around in cabs quite a bit simply because, since neither Alice nor Frank can drive, let alone do they own a car. London cab drivers are often brilliant, anyway, and they always are good for some nice advice.

They are now passing through flicking countryside and then they are stopped. There's a river and a small little pub with seats outside. There are fields surrounding it, but it doesn't reek of manure. The swinging sign from the pub reads 'The Pig and Whistle' and the sign hammered into the ground outside it claims that it is open eight days a week and twenty five hours a day.

Frank gets out the cab and then lets Alice out. He goes to the front seat and takes out his wallet, leaning across the open window to see the price of the ride, flicking through the Muggle money. Tom laughs when he sees the money, holding up one hand in protest.

"You're going to need it, mate," he says easily, flicking the keys back. "You got a lot coming for you. Good luck." Before Frank can protest at all, he pulls the car away.

"Christ," he mutters, but there's a grin on his face. Although it seems as if everybody's aware of what he's about to do besides Alice, he isn't the least bit worried. Well, not really. It doesn't seem as if she's cottoned on quite yet.

He turns around, letting his eyes fall back on Alice.

"_Frank_," she says, although she's smiling broadly. She looks at the pub, the first place Frank had ever taken Alice, and then back, smile never wavering. He nearly melts when he sees her looking at him like that, nearly asks her right then and there, but he remembers himself and steps foreword to close the gap between them, looping one hand around her waist. She presses against him and he kisses her forehead softly.

"Shall we go, my fair maiden?" he says, stepping away and offering her his elbow. She giggles slightly, as as if trying not to be too excited by Frank's corny words and slips her arm through his own. Frank beams at her, leading her up to the front door to the pub.

"Do you have a reservation?" the bored-looking teenager in the uniform for the employees asks.

"Mm," Frank says, heart suddenly thudding against his chest again. There are so many families here and children. True, it leans towards a more black tie sort of pub, but still, little children in miniature sweater vests sit in high chairs. So many married couples and teenagers who have come to the small town pub for as long as they can remember. It doesn't seem like the place that you would ask someone to marry you at, at all. He wonders faintly what people will say, what they'll do.

Jesus Christ, he's so nervous.

"Longbottom," he says faintly, chewing on his lip. The teenager glances up, raises an eyebrow and ticks something off on the book she was marking.

"Follow me, then," she says, voice still sounding as bored as ever. She leads them outside, to one of the little park bench type of tables, identical to all the others around it, with an enclosed candle in the middle. Two places are set, the napkins carefully folded over the knife and fork. Handing them two menus, the girl walks off.

"So," Frank says, laughing. "Would you like the fish and chips or the chicken nuggets?" Alice glances at him, brows raised, fighting back a smile.

"Why are you doing this?" she says quietly. It's just past seven and it's summer, so the sun is just beginning to go down. Only a few people are outside now, one family with three children and two other couples – one of elderly people and the other of a young man and woman. Frank lowers his eyes, says nothing. He just wants to hear her _talk_, he wants to talk to her, he wants it to be normal, to remind her how absolutely perfect they are until later, when he'll ask her, when she won't be able to say no because they're just so brilliant.

"Don't worry," he says, just as quietly. "Tell me about your day."

Dinner was, well. It was typical pub food really, a dodgy sort of onion soup and a relatively nice steak. That didn't matter, though. Frank could have been drinking chicken fat and eating the raw intestine of cow, for all he cared. Alice was talking and he was talking and they were getting along so well. So, when Frank looks back at the evening, just before pudding, he doesn't have any reason to be nervous at all. But, funnily enough, he is. His hands are sweating again and he continuously wipes them on the thighs of his trousers. The pudding menus haven't come yet because he's told them not to bring them out until he asks, because, well, he doesn't want to be interrupted. He stares at Alice, a funny expression on his face and then, heart pounding even more, so much so he can _hear_ it, he can _hear_ his damn heart, he stands up.

"Frank, what are you doing? Where are you going?" Alice's voice catches a little as she says this. He doesn't say anything. By now the family have left and there's just the two couples sitting outside. They're both talking quietly to each other and don't yet notice Frank getting up.

He stands in front of her and waits for her to swing both legs over the side of the bench, which he supposes must be hard in that dress. He could never wear a dress, he'd fall over. Or high heels. Pushing these thoughts out of his head, Frank takes Alice's hands. He feels as if he's going to throw up his stomach onto her, but he tries not to.

"Remember at school?" he says quietly. "When I used to always ignore you and pretend I didn't like you?" Frank pauses, realizing that this is not at all anything like what he had practiced saying. _Oh shit_, he thinks. "But then, well. I always did. I always have, Al, and you see, that's it." He stares at her, eyes meeting hers hard. "I've always loved you and I always thought you know, only dippies say I love you and things, but I do. I love you, Al." Frank takes a breath, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He lets go of one of her hands and, still keeping contact with her eyes, goes down onto one knee. He thinks, vaguely, that he is going to pass out.

"Frank, we all know how dippy you are," Alice says faintly. "Hang – what are you doing?"

Carefully, slowly, he puts one hand into his pocket, trying to wriggle the small box free. The couples around him, he notices, only because he's looking down, have stopped and they are looking at him while pretending that they aren't. He feels like a little kid does at a school play who has suddenly forgotten the words, and he fumbles the ring out of his pocket, looking up at Alice again. Hell, she must know what he's doing now. Even the couples around him do and he can sense them looking at him.

"I love you," he says again, voice quiet. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to just _think_, trying to remember all this. "Alice," he says, voice louder, more firm, because this is a question which will determine the rest of his life, "will you marry me?"

There isn't a long, awkward silence when she says no, she doesn't think she will. Nor is there one followed by her telling him that she doesn't feel ready yet. Neither does she start crying and get up and leave, or, and this was Frank's most nightmarish out of all the scenarios, laugh at him, tell him she's been stringing him along this whole time and pause only to throw her drink neatly down her front – red wine – and then leave.

Instead, he finds himself almost bowled over on the ground because Alice has her arms around his neck and she's kissing him so fiercely that he doesn't think it will ever end and one of her heels is digging into his foot, but he _doesn't care_. Because she's pulled apart from him now, face barely an inch from his, and she keeps repeating, "Yes, yes, of course I will, I love you, yes."

When they leave, the old couple tell them how pleased they are for them, even though Frank doesn't recall ever meeting them before. Alice looks baffled for a moment before remembering and wagging her finger with the ring on it under Frank's nose. They don't call a cab just yet, but walk down a tidy little public footpath, holding hands and walking so they are pressed together.

"I love you," Alice murmurs to him. She's beaming at him and they've stopped walking. She walks in front of him so that she's facing him and buries her head in his chest. He places his hands on the small of her back and pulls her closer to him.

"I love you," he echoes. He holds her close. _This is the moment_, he thinks.


End file.
